


For the Sake of an Enemy

by Savaial



Category: Dr Who - Fandom
Genre: Don't expect utter brilliance, In a happy way for us, M/M, The Master is self-destructive, Time Travel is Confusing, canon-divergent, redemption fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5267717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savaial/pseuds/Savaial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts out as the usual quest for villainous acts, and quickly becomes something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Sake of an Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> This is almost fluff, for The Master.
> 
>  
> 
> "Whomever lives for the sake of combating an enemy  
> has an interest in the enemy's continued survival." - Nietzsche

“Just because you misplaced your TARDIS doesn’t give you the right to infringe upon mine.” The Master gave his counterpart a disdainful sniff, his eyes gone flat with irritation. “And what _is_ that egg-and-dart monstrosity around your neck? The velvet is passable for fashion, and I do like your cuffs, but _honestly_.”

The latter Master had known his past self would protest over having his TARDIS lured planetside, but he hadn’t expected a sartorial sermon. He shut the door and sauntered over to the central controls. “You’ve got nerve; your interior decorating is cluttered and archaic. No one seriously adjusts a TARDIS to look like the nineteen sixties on Earth vomited all over the place.” He sat in a handy chair and gave a sneer. “Very well; if you won’t hand over your TARDIS, then take me somewhere I can get another one.”

“You created a paradox and now expect me to ferry you around. You’re the one with nerve.” The earlier Master sighed. “Oh, I suppose so. You’re at least intelligent company. The Doctor’s not exactly complying with games at the moment. Can’t get him away from those tiresome UNIT people.”

“Let’s steal _his_ TARDIS, then.”

“Can’t really opt for his TARDIS at the moment. He’s dismantled a fair amount of it in some last-ditch effort in remembering how it works.” The Master gave a short sigh. “I do so hate having him stranded on Earth. It’s getting difficult to come up with original game plays when restricted to a single playing field.” His eyes slid to his future self slowly. “Drums?”

“Still there,” he answered. “Getting worse.”

The Master nodded, swallowing hard. “But, still manageable?”

“They slowly increase in volume, not in tempo, so don’t worry.” The future Master offered a smile. “Interestingly, they halted for a few hours while I adjusted this Trakanite body to Time Lord physiology.”

“You’re wearing a stolen body.” The Master chuckled a little. “What happened? No, forget I asked.” He started setting coordinates. “Since we’re both here and violating a lot of time laws, why not go a bit further? We could find another one of us and really make an interesting game.”

“Oh, twist my arm,” his counterpart replied, grinning. “But only three of us; any more than that and we’ll confuse ourselves.”

The Master rubbed his palms together. “I’ve been working on a new perception filter. Would you like to see?”

“I remember it, and it was brilliant of me,” the Master said.

“Excellent.”

For a few minutes neither Master spoke, then, the newer one began laughing a little. “You know, it’s very interesting; I’ve seen the Doctor interacting with his other selves, and none of them get along. Here we are, and I remember how much I _liked_ being you. You have so much class.”

The older Master put his hands behind his back and gave him a doubtful eyebrow. “I’m not sure if that qualifies as flattery or masturbation.”

“You liked it anyway. Quit pretending.”

“I’m not pretending. Yes, I liked it. I’m reassured by the sight of you, actually. I don’t appear to have done badly.”

“You were worried.”

“Yes.”

“I still am,” the future Master confessed.

“Perhaps, then, we should find a much later version of us?” The Master hit a button. “It’s a fair wager that we won’t be far from the Doctor, so let’s use his DNA and artron signals as a homing beacon.”

The later Master frowned. “I don’t remember storing a sample of him.”

“You don’t remember cutting off a lock of his ridiculous hair?” The Master pulled a locket out of his suit jacket. “What did you do with it?”

“Oh.” The Master shook his head. “I lost that a long time ago.”

“Pity, this is where you lost it.” The Master opened his locket, took out the curl of hair, and dropped it into a scanning chute. “I’d replace this sample, but he’d notice if I took another one, and I’m very adamant that he not know how much I-.”

“We,” the Master corrected softly. “I still do.”

“Ah.” Older Master sighed. “His notice is so fleeting. Causing trouble is the only way to get his attention. Granted, it gives me an excuse to be inventive and to show off a little, but it _is_ cold comfort.”

The other Master joined him at the controls. “Ah, I see where we’re going. This is far into our timelines…” He frowned suddenly. “Do you hear that?”

“Yes. It’s perfectly silent.”

They stood there, motionless, eyes closed.

“Holy Rassilon,” the older Master breathed. “Our time signature and the Doctor’s are the only ones.” He brought up the scanner quickly. “Gallifrey is gone.”

They looked at each other.

“Does that mean…?”

“Which of us…?”

They’d asked at the same time.

“The Doctor wouldn’t destroy Gallifrey. It had to be us.”

“I hate our people, but I wouldn’t destroy the entire planet!”

Hands shaking slightly, the older Master stopped their flight. “We’re on a hovercraft, a defender. The Doctor’s TARDIS is here, but it’s radiating a very strange energy."

The younger Master looked at it a moment. “It’s a paradox generation. This might not be the wisest place to stop, after all.”

“Too late; our TARDIS is linked to it, attracted by the paradox we’ve already created. We’ll have to stay very clear of both these machines until the paradox coming from the Doctor’s TARDIS is eliminated.”

“Put on the perception filter first!”

“Cloak this TARDIS, too!

The Masters slid the rings on and bolted, staying close together and walking quickly away from the paradox-linked machines. “I have a very, very bad feeling about this,” the younger one said. “We should have left well enough alone. I shouldn’t have drawn you to my position. What if we get stranded here?”

“No help for it. Wouldn’t be the worst mess we’ve been in, would it?”

 

*

 

“Oh.” The younger Master’s eyes fastened upon his far-future self. “Look how young we look.” He had to whisper, because there weren’t many people in the main room. At this point, their future leaned over and kissed a blonde woman that the older Master had been privately admiring.

“We…”

“I think I’m going to be quite ill.”

“We…”

“He married her; they’re wearing identical bands.”

“A human! It’s disgusting!”

“Keep your voice down!”

The two Masters looked at each other for a moment. “Let’s be honest,” the older one said. “She’s beautiful. If he has a long-term plan in place, he’ll want someone to keep his bed warm.”

Younger Master flinched. “But, the Doctor’s time signature is in here, and we’re the only two Time Lords left, somehow. I would think that meant something special, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe that woman _is_ the Doctor?”

“Doesn’t smell like him.”

“True.”

The far-future Master laughed, got up and did a strange little waltz toward a covered birdcage. “He’s- _**we’ve**_ gone very mad, haven’t we?” Younger Master observed softly. “I’d say the drums finally conquered us.”

The cover was flung from the birdcage, and both Masters recoiled in mute, horrified shock. They watched their future self grab the bars and rattle the thing, sending a shrunken, aged Doctor tumbling around inside violently.

“No.”

“Why would we do this?”

“We…” The older Master observed his other self keenly. “He has a weapon, and I’ll bet it’s the way he accomplished this.”

The second Master took out his TCE and held it. “My TCE wouldn’t do that kind of damage to the Doctor.”

The mad, laughing Master grabbed his wife and sauntered from the room, and an entourage followed. In mere moments, the room was dark and silent, except for a tiny, tiny little voice that said only once, “I forgive you.”

By silent, mutual consent, the two Masters approached the caged Doctor. One of them slid the hastily replaced cover free, and they stared down at what their beloved Doctor had become. His enormous, wet-looking eyes stared up at them, but he couldn’t see them because of the perception filter. The two Masters touched their hands together.

/We have to fix this/.

/I concur. I don’t think our far-future self will listen to us, however/.

/What, then/?

/First, we get the Doctor out of that revolting cage/.

/Then/?

/Then, we steal that weapon and return the Doctor to his normal form, whatever that is; I can’t imagine what he must really look like/.

/All right. You have a younger body than I do, currently, so you do the thievery. I’ll get him out and meet you in that lounge we passed/.

/Agreed. It might take awhile to accomplish such a theft, so be patient. He’s probably got his weapon very close at all times/.

/Perhaps he’ll be so occupied with marital benefits that you can get it quicker/?

/We could only be so lucky. If I don’t meet up with you in two hours, come and find me. Be wary. Our future self is animal in his temper and cunning/.

/Don’t worry/.

The older Master waited a few minutes before lightly tapping the cage. He used a code he thought the Doctor might know. D-O-N-T S-P-E-A-K. R-E-S-C-U-E.

The Doctor sat up. He blinked and remained still, otherwise, but the Master saw the pulse throbbing in his temple. Quickly, the Master took a multi-tool from his pocket and made short work of the cage lock. He reached in and picked up the Doctor as gently as he could.

The Doctor felt fragile, and it pained the Master greatly. Perhaps his far-future self was justified in doing this to their best enemy, but _he_ couldn’t condone it. The Doctor, despite his silly ways, had a certain dignity.

There was no dignity in this.

He tucked the Doctor inside his jacket, feeling like he was stealing a baby. Then, he crept out. No one paid him any mind as he walked for the lounge because of his brilliant perception filter, and he congratulated himself on a job well done.

No one occupied the lounge. The Master locked the door and very carefully brought the Doctor out of his jacket. He thought his hearts would break as he realized the Doctor, thinking himself safe for the first time in Rassilon-only-knew-how-long, had fallen asleep. The warmth of his body and the rocking motion had contributed, he supposed.

Slowly, his eyes opened. The Master took his ring off so the Doctor could see him. “What have I done to you, Doctor?’ he asked softly.

“I thought it was you,” the Doctor said. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I never follow rules, you know that,” the Master chided. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“You aged me, naturally.”

“There isn’t anything natural about it.” The Master saw that the Doctor was shivering now, and took off his jacket to bundle it around him. “What’s happened to me, to us, to Gallifrey?”

The Doctor coughed wetly. “I burned it,” he whispered.

“Is that why I’m treating you like this?” The Master barely believed the benevolent Doctor could be responsible for genocide. Yet, he saw such agony in the man’s eyes that he had to. “I can’t fathom that I’d care so much about Gallifrey.”

“It’s not that,” the Doctor said letting his head rest in the warm fabric. The Master bunched a little of it up for a pillow, feeling an ache in his throat. “If you saw yourself, you’d know you’ve gone insane.”

“I estimated such. It’s the drums, Doctor. By now they must be very loud for me.”

“I’m sorry, Master. I never listened. And now, it’s too late for me to save you.” He paused. “I’ll listen now, anyway, if you still want me to try.”

The Master felt a wry smile pulling his lips. “My dear Doctor, how can it be too late? We’re Time Lords. I don’t see any of our do-nothing, rule-abiding people waiting to chastise us for breaking a few edicts.”

That got a smile out of the Doctor, albeit a small one. “That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Go back to sleep for bit; I can see you’re exhausted.” The Master wanted nothing more than to fix this, to stop himself, to have his Doctor the way he always was. He didn’t like seeing him so weak and helpless, not even with the knowledge that in the future he’d beaten him. Victory had a sour taste for him right now, and he thought it had everything to do with how the Doctor fit in the crook of his arm.

“I’d protest, but I really can’t,” the Doctor said, his eyes slowly closing.

The Master sat in a chair and let the Doctor fall back asleep. At least one of his hearts did break, then, because the Doctor, trusting this earlier version of him, put his head directly over it. He drew comfort from hearing a cardiovascular system like his own, probably. Or, maybe he’d _wanted_ one of the Master’s hearts to crack in half.

It seemed he blinked and he was looking at his travelling companion, who held the shiny treasure-weapon between them. “You’re crying,” he observed, “and I don’t blame you.” He opened the device and started poking around in the guts of it. “This is brilliant of us, I have to admit it,” he added. “Just look in here.”

Both Masters looked a long time.

“I see how to put him to rights.” Other Master motioned to the Doctor, who slumbered on. “Put him on the floor so we don’t altogether break him being ham-fisted in our surprisingly good intentions.”

Older Master snorted, but obeyed. “I wonder if he’s good looking?”

“You know he is; he always is, even when he’s perfectly odd.” Younger Master shut the casing on the laser weapon and gave the bottom a twist. “Although, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him odder.”

“What about his clothes?”

“Drape the jacket over him, then. Personally, I’d like to have some fantasy fuel to keep me warm in my dreams.”

Both Masters chuckled. They stood back and engaged the reversal.

“Oh,” they both said at once, looking down at the young, handsome Doctor. Then, again in choral, “We must be insane, indeed.”

The lounge door opened, and Far-Future Master came in. “Senility shouldn’t go backwards,” he declared. “Think, idiots; if you can interact with each other, why wouldn’t I see you?” He held his hand out for his weapon.

“I want you to think about this,” the older Master said quietly. “That’s our best enemy lying on the floor, possibly even dying from the abuse you’ve heaped upon him. What will we have if we don’t have him?”

The new Master leaned out, snatched the laser, and pocketed it. “Thanks to you two changing my history for me, I can’t help but be _like_ you. Damn you both for making me weak right as I had victory over him!” He sighed shortly, scowling. “Now, I’m going to have to send you both back; we can’t all be torching over this idiot at the same time and place.”

“You’ve built a paradox machine in his TARDIS; we can’t go until you get rid of it,” the Master in the middle said.

“Oh, so I have to destroy that, too?” The far-future Master threw his hands in the air. “Everything was going so well and I sabotage _myself_!” He bent and picked the Doctor up. “Stay here until I smash the thing.”

“You can’t carry him like that,” Older Master protested. “He wouldn’t do that to you!”

“No, but he’ll let me burn to death!” The Master practically hissed. He looked at his more recent predecessor. “When you go to Sarn, make a back up plan. Make two of them, actually. Now, _**stay here**_.” He strode out with the barely covered Doctor.

“Well,” Older Master said quietly. “We seem to have changed things.”

“We’re going to regret this, somehow.”

“I’m sure. Our life is full of regret. At least we know our beloved adversary will live, though.”

They waited perhaps twenty minutes before they felt the tenuous paradox snap abruptly. Both had the sensation of time flowing backward, and both decided privately they’d rather not have experienced it; it had a sick taste, somehow.

“I’m tired of waiting. Let’s go.”

They marched almost in perfect synch all the way down. The Doctor’s TARDIS was open, and their future self was tearing bits of his project out. The Doctor, still asleep, lay upon the floor with a blanket. In unison, all three men looked at the long, lean leg poking out of the heavy wool, and sighed.

“If I didn’t love him,” Far-Future Master declared in disgust, “I’d have killed him. He’s such a killjoy, do-gooding, insufferable, egotistical idiot!”

The other two Masters stiffened. They’d not said _that_ word, but this other version of them had no trouble with it, apparently.

“Oh, keep your priggy chastity, then, but don’t expect me to.” Far-Future Master kicked an instrument panel. “I’ve got to get _something_ for this. It might as well be what I’ve always wanted. The bleeding wound will probably take me prisoner now, and force me onto his decrepit old time machine with a slave collar!”

Both of his earlier selves smiled a little.

“Oh, what torture,” one murmured while the other said, “Serves us right.”

“Shut up!” New Master proceeded to throw a small hissy fit. “Go back home, the pair of you! You’ve done enough damage, making me remember I care. If I could, I’d shoot you both!”

The two Masters backed out of the Doctor’s TARDIS and returned to theirs. For a long while neither of them spoke. Then, Older Master began to chuckle. Soon, he had company in his laughter.

 

*

 

“What happened? Where am I?” The Doctor sat up, his eyes wild. “I had a strange dream.”

“You didn’t dream it.”

The Doctor whipped his head around to see the Master sitting in his jumpseat looking extremely put upon. “What?”

“I rescued you from me, are you happy?” The Master hopped up. “Go put some trousers on.” He strode off, going deeper into the TARDIS. “Idiot,” he added loudly and helpfully. “We’ll be in the Eye of Orion in twenty standard minutes. Don’t you dare change the coordinates.”

The Doctor clutched his blanket and stared at the far wall. Then, he began to smile.

 

 _Fantastic_.


End file.
